another dirty teen hitchhiker
by rib
Summary: Kenstophe with MysterionKenny. Poorly-written blowjob yaay.


Mysterion held his boots in one hand as he strode down the highway. His numb, bare feet would slip occasionally on the frozen ground. He'd fallen over a few times already, gashing his elbows through his suit and tearing his cowl. Despite the distance between each flickering streetlamp, he could see his quiet gasps form fog in front of his face. He wasn't sure how much further South Park was, but he knew he had to get home before morning. (Rather, before Kyle found out he'd snuck out _again_.)

He stopped beneath a streetlamp. He held on to the post while slipping his boots back on. They were getting a bit too small for him. He'd been wearing them since fifth grade, after all. He tried to calculate how many extra hours he'd have to work at his job to be able to afford a new pair. Three weeks? Maybe two and a half if he skipped a few classes. Only, he remembered that Kyle had warned him about skipping classes just that morning.

He'd practically been living with the redhead for nearly two months. Kyle's treatment of Kenny did not meet Kenny's expectations. He'd expected sharing the twin-sized bed and late-night make-outs (but not sex, because Kyle had made his opinions about _that_ very clear from the very beginning,) and good-morning kisses and hand-holding on their way to school. Instead, Kyle seemed to view Kenny as a new baby brother. Or a pet.

Mysterion leaned against the streetlamp and soon spotted a pair of headlights. He thought about his blistered, aching feet, stepped forward, and stuck out his thumb. He raised his arm and waited patiently. The back of the worn, black pick-up was covered in tarp. As it neared and slowed, Mysterion realized that the driver's face was awfully familiar.

"South Park?" Mysterion growled quickly, peering into the window on tip-toe.

Green eyes glared back. "Cut the act. Get in," the driver grunted with a sprinkle of an accent that was muffled by the white stick between his lips.

Instead of going around the front, like a decent person would, Mysterion threw the driver's door open and crawled over him to get to the passenger seat. The tan, toned brunette gripped the wheel in a very pissed-off manner.

"Where'd you come from, Mole?"

Christophe rolled his eyes and took a drag off his cigarette. 'If you must know, hero—"

"And you know I do," Kenny laughed.

"—I just flew in from Cambodia."

"What were you there for?" Kenny propped his legs on the dashboard.

"God knows what that muffin-breathing bastard was up to," Christophe was able to lift his leg high enough to kick Kenny's legs off.

"Where's the princess, anyway?" Kenny looked around, pulling his hood down.

"Asleep. In the back," Chris answered shortly. "Your head is bleeding."

Kenny blinked and yawned. "It was. It stopped. I'm dry." He curled up against the door and shivered. He pulled of his gloves and rubbed his hands vigorously against each other. The truck didn't have a heater. "Chris, pull over."

"Christ's sake."

"Come on, I promise I'll be quick."

The mercenary swerved to the side of the road and killed the gas. Kenny immediately reached over to undo the Frenchman's cargo pants, pushing away the black dri-fit shirt. He fished out Christophe's limp dick and began stroking it roughly. When the brunette barked something in French, Kenny licked his palms before continuing any further. As soon as Chris began twitching, Kenny dove to wrap his lips around the tip of his semi-aroused cock. His tongue swirled around expertly while his fingers lowered themselves to massage Chris' balls. The blonde groaned (making sure the vibrations would thrum against Christophe's hard-on.) He pulled away with a pop, leaving his pale lips, as well as Christophe's head, coated in gooey saliva.

Kenny sat up, straddled the assassin carefully and kissed him on the lips with a knowing grin. He grinded his tighty-whit-clad crotch against Chris' very much exposed one. The blue-eyed hero nipped gently at the chapped lips, squeezing the cock in his hands between two fingers. He alternated using both his hands and his own painful erection (trapped in tights and a pair of briefs.) Christophe swore crudely in two languages into Kenny's ear, hips bucking.

Mysterion pulled Christophe's hair quite hard later on, for cumming on the suit.

Kenny threw his hood back on and kissed the brunette off as he crawled over him to get out of the truck. "Thanks for the ride, Chris!"

The Mole only scowled and drove away. (But Kenny was sure he meant to say something nice.)


End file.
